Doing my research on these guys, I instantly fell in love with their music. They have the perfect variety of originals and covers. Checking them out on YouTube, this cover of Radiohead’s Creep is hands down my favourite.

There’s been great hesitation to write this post.
I thought about letting it wash over but it’s a topic that hits too close to home. Literally.

I happened to be at the office the other day for a brief visit.

Being in sales, my primary aim is to be out on the road 90% of the time and to only drop by the office to pick up materials or attend meetings.

The other day, I realized why this was so good for me.

There’s no need to deal on a daily basis with people I would consider idiots.

Starting up an innocent conversation with a colleague about holidays, I tell her we’re planning an extra long one at the end of the year.

To Bali.

“Oh, I don’t know how you could possibly even think about supporting that country…”

THAT country.

Well, first of all, Bali is an island, I felt like saying.

Don’t state your opinion when your obvious ignorance is hindering you from getting the facts right.

Secondly, she’s obviously not a friend of mine on Facebook otherwise she would’ve seen this post.

So, consider her unfriended in real life.

From an Australian Indonesian’s point of view – who holds both countries with deep affection and allegiance, how does it make me feel when says something like:

“Gosh, why would you support that country?”

Because I have family there. I was born there. For a while, I was raised there.

And above all, my children have heritage there.

But we need to stick to the facts and not pile the problems into the “one country” pigeon hole.

No one’s country is perfect. Especially their government.

Not all Indonesians are cruel and heartless.

And for those who insist on boycotting Bali or vowing to never step foot in Indonesia, as far as I can see, that’s an attitude that only feeds the already existing anger.

For those who demand that we stop foreign aid to Indonesia, this is only going to harm those who need it most.

How is it going to stop Joko Widodo and his government from conducting further heinous acts and breaking basic human rights?

How can #istandformercy if I don’t stand compassion for the innocent and the poor?

The Indonesian/Australian relationship has held a long, complicated history, politically, socially, economically and culturally.

Two countries that are so close regionally but worlds apart culturally.

I ask that for those who are upset with what’s going on to take on the specific facts.

Get angry with the Indonesian government, not its people.

Get annoyed with how the Australian government who should’ve started lobbying 10 years ago when all of the Bali 9 were at high risk of being executed rather than only knee jerking when the death penalty becomes urgent and real.

This post is brought to you by The Kitchen Place. All opinions are mine. All DIY disasters mentioned are also real, unfortunately.

First and foremost, this post is not a bash at Mr Surfer. He will be the first to agree with me that working on home renovations is not his strong point.

This little home of ours is full of love and DIY disasters.

When baby proofing the house, my husband had second thoughts to where he should stick a 3D hook. Thinking that it would just be like moving a post-it note, he ended up ripping out a chunk of wall instead.

My husband has a tendency to become stoic over a range of hardships, including home improvement projects.

There seems to be difficulty in admitting that some jobs, well MOST jobs are best left to the professionals.

In hindsight, I should’ve known way back when we were still just dating.

As Mr Surfer mulled and debated over the Ikea instructions of the new bookshelf I had bought for my apartment, I could sense something wasn’t quite right.

Maybe it was the extra sweat on his brow or the awkward silence each time he picked up the allan key.

Many delayed hours later, the bookshelf was finally erected with the same dramatic climax to the barn raising scene of “Witness”.

Unfortunately, the excitement was short lived when Mr Surfer realized he had assembled the top panel the wrong way around.

Yeah, oops.

People dream about their dream car, houses or even kitchens.

I have fantasies about the perfect bookshelf.

In 5 years of blissful marriage and countless bodgy home repairs job later, we now have a basic, unspoken rule.

Depending on how complex the job is (not very) and how many attempts he’s made (COUNTLESS), then it’s time to call the big guns.

In one phone call, a giant wave of shock, disbelief, insurmountable pain and sorrow cruelly crashed into my life. The ripples still continue.

It’s hard to swallow the ugly truth that death guarantees life will never be the same again; that life is not what it is if we stay stagnant; if it doesn’t evolve or change.

I know my cousin would want me to carry on today like any other; to keep on moving.

She was never one to keep still herself.

Always traveling for work or for her church, she successfully kept up the demands of her family, patients, students and colleagues.

A gifted public speaker, she rarely declined an opportunity to lecture to a packed room of eager students, or stand in front of the pulpit for her local congregation and proclaim her God’s love.

Her often hoarse voice was simply an indication of how content she was in her own life’s purpose, how much she loved being around people.

In an already crazy crowded city like Jakarta, the neighbouring streets to her family home were blocked off to control the traffic congestion, to manage the constant flow of guests coming over to pay their last respects at her funeral.

People, just keep on moving.

While I need to find something to mark this day, I know Kak Rytha wouldn’t want me spend it by keeping still in sadness.

Maybe I’ll do a run; go somewhere special to eat (she loved to eat and we spent our last hour together gorging our faces).

Perhaps, a swim like the few times we went together.

Whatever it be, I’m adamant she would want me to celebrate her life, not mourn her death.

Asking a recently MBA graduate friend what was here biggest take away from her degree, she replied:

“You have to be able to keep reinventing yourself.”

Huh.

I felt like not only had I saved myself from 3 years of intense studies but more importantly a shitload of post graduate business management school fees.

There’s one make up accessory that has terrified me for years: Red lipstick.

Thinking that it’s only for beautiful, porcelain skin, I had convinced myself, there wasn’t a shade out there that would match this blah cocoa brown skin.

Instead, I stuck to the corporate, conservative nude colours while there was always a deep admiration for women who could pull it off.

I always marveled how my late beloved cousin, Rytha always wore it with such chic and a massive, electrifying smile. She had an air of confidence that only such vibrant lips could match that vivacious personality. Anything less would do her warm, playful disposition an injustice.

How I miss that smile.

Currently heavily into this Mad Men addiction, gushing over the elegantly tailored frocks, hats and gloves of the glamorous early ’60’s, there is absolutely no avoiding quintessential velvet lips.

Feminism may have been non-existent but dang, those women knew their power of seduction in scarlet red.

As this motherhood gig presents itself with constant changes and figuring out ways to survive them, regressing to what’s most convenient and familiar becomes habitual.

Trying something new is too risky; too much of a laborious task.

Stuck in an unbreakable rut of predictable shades of brown and brown, I only had myself to blame.

A big thank you to the glamorous ladies at Champagne Cartel and their how to wear lipstick guide. (Wear it when you’re vacuuming!!! You won’t regret it!)

The post was a quiet yet persistent voice whispering, “Do it, do it. DO IT!”

After much market research (also known as Priceline shopping), my Revlon Bold Matt (No.6) made its debut on the weekend.

The lady at the local café noticed. Along with endless compliments from Mr Surfer, even my little boy took an interest (“Mama, you got red lips. You bewdiful”).

Maybe make up is shallow, blindly expecting it to single handedly end the means of mundaneness.

But it was the weekend I picked up my confidence where I last left it; reminded of the undeniably sweet rewards from taking risks, no matter how small.

It’s time to take on the power of reinvention…starting with the lips.

What’s your shade of lipstick? Do you change your lipstick often? What would you like to reinvent?

I was supposed to “have a rendevous” there but being the typical commitment phobe type that he was, my trip turned solo. While it had the eat and pray aspects, the love didn’t come until much later (cue Mr Surfer).

Anyway, let bygones be just that.

The excitement hit great heights when Mr Surfer agreed that part of our Indonesia trip this year was going to include 9 nights in Bali’s art and cultural haven.

Roughly a 2 hour drive from Denpasar, Ubud is located inland and the polar opposite of the stereotypical tourist Bali with beaches and surf. Think tranquil and serene.

And while it’s been 3 weeks since we’ve been back (wah!), here are some of the highlights of our time there.

Alam Jiwa:

We arrived at Alam Jiwa, our hotel, late at night so when I woke up early the next morning to have a proper survey of where we were actually staying, I couldn’t believe our luck. Searching hours on tripadvisor.com for our ideal hotel certainly paid off!

Ubud is made up of various, surrounding villages, each having its own specialty in a particular craft. Alam Jiwa was a complex with approximately 10 wooden bungalows and located in Nyuh Kuning Village, known for its woodcarving.

The mornings were spent taking a quiet walk around the lush, green rice paddys followed by a swim in the pool. Then, we’d sit out on the balcony to enjoy a full breakfast of baskets of mixed bread, omelets, pancakes, fresh fruit salad, yoghurt and ginger tea.

One slight “inconvenience” was that there was no television. Really, it’s was just a first world problem. However, it did make entertaining the twinions a little harder when the heat would hit its peak at mid afternoon and it was too hot to do anything outside.

Camplung Sari Hotel:

An old family friend of ours happens to be the general manager at Camplung Sari Hotel. Why we didn’t think of staying there? I don’t know. But I’m glad we took up the invitation to hang out there for the day.

Located right next to Ubud’s famous Monkey Forest, we found ourselves with quite a few “visitors”.

One happened to run off with one of the twinions’ floaties. Well, grabbed it. Bit into it. Deflated it. THEN, ran off with it. Another couple of monkeys started randomly doing their “business” in front of all us pool siders to witness.

Charming.

My husband – the man with the juvenile sense of humour – of course thought it was hilarious. Just secretly, I may have had a smirk myself…while trying to cover my children’s eyes. Ahem.

Monkey Forest:

And while we’re on the topic of those little cheeky critters, Ubud’s main tourist attraction would have to be the Sacred Monkey Forest.

Serving as more of a park for where the monkeys can run loose, it’s a quick 10 minute walk from one end to the other. But it will take longer as there are at least 600 monkeys to make friends with. Most are cute but I was conscious that the boys didn’t get too close or touch them.

Regardless, it was probably the highlight for the twinions. So much so, we went back at least another three times.

The Kayma Spa:

Ubud is packed with fantastic health and beauty spas. But above all, they’re so cheap!

I picked up the pamphlet for Kayma Spa from the hotel counter and I’m so glad I did. It ended up being an out of body experience.

I booked myself in for a 5 hour treatment which included a hot/cold stone full body massage, full body exfoliation treatment, milk bath, hair treatment and scalp massage as well as a manicure and pedicure…all for under (wait for it) $100!!!

At first, I thought I was going to struggle to get through the 5 hours. I mean, that’s serious pampering.

But as soon as my body hit that massage table, the hours flew by.

As it worked out, we spent our 4th wedding anniversary in Ubud, happily splashing around the pool with the twinions.

Years earlier, my younger self dragged a shattered heart to the rooftop of the backpack bungalow. Staring at the endless starry sky, I desperately worried about my future.

And despite not finding love that time, it seems I was able to eventually return bringing along my own love – my family – with me.

Those who know me will know. Those who don’t, let me tell you: I don’t craft.

I barely have the patience to sew a button.

Casually bumping into a fellow mummy at the café, we end up having an impromptu discussion about Christmas and home made decorations.

I bragged about how as a family, we managed by mysterious feat to make a successful trip to Westfield. Albeit a tantrum or ten, not only a tree and its ornaments was purchased but also a North Pole Express Train set to boot!

How about that? Mr and Mrs Scrooge teach their kids the spirit of Christmas.

Sipping on cappuccinos, basking in the summer sun, somehow the random topic of advent calendars surfaced.

“Oh check out this one! Oh, how cute is this???” my friend swoons, swiping through the endless Pinterest photos on her phone.

This is where it needs to be stated why I hate Pinterest: It gets you in trouble.

In an attempt to make polite conversation, I pretended to also marvel at all the Christmas decorations

“Oh yeah…Very cool! We should do that one…” my friend hears me say.

But somehow misses out on the rest of the sentence: “Next year”

In a frenzied confusion, I somehow found myself volunteering to do some “research” on advent activities and agree to collaborate efforts later that afternoon.

And because it appears there are those out there who were just as surprised that I actually stuck it out and accomplished a crafty project, for ground breaking proof, here are the details of what we used and the activities we came up with.

It kills me that I’m cutting my bloggy break Bali holiday by writing a post on politics, no less. However, this phone tapping debacle has me bursting at the seams with frustration.

For the love of decent, diplomatic relations, just apologize!!!

Stop appeasing voters and supporters, Abbott and take accountability for our government’s mistakes. That’s what we voted you in for, right?

And I don’t even think it’s simply a Coalition government issue. Time and countless times again, past governments (both Labour and Liberal) have had their share of political faux pas with its most strategic neighbour. Forever treating the relationship with such insensitivity and stupidity.

Don’t even get me started on the embarrassing “wires crossed” initial meeting that Julie Bishop recently had with Indonesian’s Foreign Minister, Natalegawa.

The mentality of Indonesia needs us more than we need them” needs to stop. Now.

Why?

Because a country with a population of over 240 million and predicted by the World Bank to be the 7th largest economy by 2030 is something to take seriously.

The streets of Jakarta are bustling with highways and no longer strewn with potholes. I didn’t see anyone drive a car less than 5 years old. Skyscraper apartment buildings show me that more people are entering the middle income bracket, affording decent homes and getting out of the slums by the open sewerage canals.

What was once a quiet cultural and artistic haven surrounded by rice terraces, Ubud in Bali is thriving with retail business and tourism. Having been there 12 years ago, I was gob-smacked by the changes. Ripcurl, Billabong and even Pandora are part of the endless line of foreign shops on the main drag of Monkey Forest Road, indicating that foreign investment (specifically from Australia) is in full force.

I almost gagged on my Balinces crispy roast duck when my friend at dinner told me Ubud land prices are sky-rocketing – doubling in value every 6 months.

Witnessing all the flourishing economic activity, I reckon the World Banks’s got it wrong.

It’s all going to happen for Indonesia before 2030. Waaaaay before.

So, let’s stop the bullshit and give Indonesia the respect it deserves.

About Me…

Indonesian-born, Grace spent extensive time living and working overseas, primarily in Japan. She now resides in Sydney where she is mum to identical twin boys and wife to an avid surfer. While she has happily replaced office life with motherhood, Grace has discovered that a 10 year career in corporate sales and being fluent in 3 languages is futile when dealing with toddler tantrums and singing “The Wheels On The Bus”